Lost Reality Poem by Mary Champion

Underneath the shallow turquoise waters
the substance of ancient myths lies sleeping.
The tales have long been told by troubadours,
sharing their ballads with knights and ladies,
with weary peasants and wide-eyed children.
Throughout the seasons of peace and of wars
memories faded but the myths lived on -
passed down the ages through wise men and fools,
written down on parchment and on paper,
reproduced by playwrights and by players,
recorded on celluloid and in bits,
losing so much in the endless retellings
that the shallow turquoise waters grew dark
and none now believed in the substance.
So, when, in the fullness of pre-ordained time,
the myth became a material fact,
the passing throng never even noticed -
so caught up were they in their meaningless lives.